Surprise Party
by hinkykneazel
Summary: At 50, Hermione is doing all sorts of things she never would have thought she would. Oh dear gods, can it get any more embarrassing?
1. Chapter 1 Hermione's 50th Birthday Party

Hermione was mortified.

Oh, the day had gone splendidly. Her best friends Ginny and Luna had really outdone themselves planning the perfect "girls' day out" for Hermione's fiftieth birthday. They had enjoyed a light lunch at the posh Epicurius and an afternoon of pampering at Venus Day Spa. After her massage and hydrating body scrub, Hermione couldn't remember when she had felt so relaxed. Heck, she could barely remember her own name, if she were honest with herself. Julian had turned her muscles to jelly under his strong hands.

Even Harry's wife, Pansy, had behaved herself – mostly. Luna had run interference between Pansy and the waiter with the tight pants, and Ginny had to specifically request a female masseuse when Pansy wasn't paying attention. Not that Pans had ever cheated on Harry per se, but she did have roaming hands and a penchant for pinching male arses when she was out with the girls and her husband was not around.

No, the trouble had started when they moved the party to the Three Broomsticks and Alicia, Katie, and Hannah joined them. Her friends had rented the "coven suite," designed to sleep thirteen for hen nights, bridal parties, and other overnight entertainments for multiple people. The suite included a large, central sitting area with low slung couches and pillows large enough to comfortably recline on and several plush niches that served as bedrooms. When she had first seen the sumptuousness of the room, Hermione had wondered about the previous festivities this decadent pit of sin had hosted.

oOoOoOo

The champagne flowed as the birthday presents became more risqué. "When am I ever going to wear this?" she said as she crinkled her nose over a sheer black fragment of fabric and floss. "How does one even put this on?"

Pansy giggled while the other women hooted in laughter. "Well, Ronald's loss is the wizarding world's gain, Hermione. Isn't your Animagus form a _cougar_?" She made little clawing motions with her blood red manicured nails and growled. Ginny snorted champagne out of her nose, and it all went downhill from there.

Because that was the moment when the doorbell sounded and a man in Auror robes stepped into the suite and swaggered toward the congregated women.

"I have had some complaints from other guests that you ladies have been a rather rowdy bunch," he said as he whipped out his wand. As Hermione began to apologize for the inconvenience and promise that they would hold it down, the others began – well, cackling would be the only word for it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to have more than mere promises, even though you are the most beautiful woman in the room." Hermione gulped as she took in his smoldering eyes and predatory gait as he invaded her personal space.

With a flick of his wand, the Auror conjured a straight back chair and lightly restrained Hermione to it with silken ribbons. Circling his wand over his head, he lowered the lights except for one spotlight on him. When the pulsing music started and his intentions became clear, Hermione blushed and groaned in embarrassment. Around the darkened edges of the room, she could hear her friends whistling and laughing, encouraging the man to "strut his stuff" and "just take it off already."

He then removed the hood to expose his platinum blond hair and masked face. Hermione had trouble breathing. _It couldn't be! No, Malfoy would never be caught dead as a stripper._ Then he removed his Auror's robes to expose his toned, lithe body. _No, definitely too young to be Draco. Thank Merlin!_

Faced with a younger version of the man she had crushed on so heavily in the years just after the War, Hermione's body went stiff as she tried to control any outward signs of her arousal. She hastily remembered that she had once told Ginny about her crush from over thirty years ago, and promised herself that she would take her revenge at her best friend's next birthday. And then she stopped thinking at all…

The masked blonde began dancing to the pulsing rhythms. His hips rolled as his hands skimmed over his smooth chest and down his abdomen. His fingers stroked over his pelvis and slipped just under the waistband of his pants. Her eyes followed every move as he caressed his sensuous body, and she licked her dry lips.

The laughter and wolf whistles of her so-called friends receded as all of her attention was captured by his hands now rubbing over his crotch, which was blatantly tenting his pants. She gasped and quickly looked away and up into his eyes to find him looking intently at her alone. With a flash, he whipped the pants away from his body to expose the rest of his glorious body, except for what was barely covered by a silver g-string.

Unaware of her labored panting, Hermione swallowed thickly as the dancer continued to make love to his body just inches in front of her. She leaned back suddenly and almost knocked her chair backward when he straddled her legs and began grinding himself into her lap. She didn't know what compelled her, but she found herself straining forward to lick the young man's nipple. As he moved up and back from her lap, Hermione's tongue never lost contact and traced down toward the silver bulge between his legs. She moaned when he stepped back and she barely registered a female voice saying, "Now, now, Hermione. You can look, but you can't touch." More cackling followed as another bottle of champagne was passed around by the other ladies in the room.

"Oh, she can touch it," a deep voice penetrated through the women's laughter and shrieks. The masked blonde turned around to face away from the restrained woman at the center of the room. He bent over, his arse high in the air. His legs pumped up and down and his hands caressed his arse and thighs just in front of Hermione.

"Would you like to touch it?" He looked over his shoulder and winked at her. "Would you like to spank it?" He slapped and rubbed his arse, while looking at Hermione through heavy, half-lidded eyes. "You can, you know."

Hermione hadn't realized that her hands were no longer restrained until she reached out toward him. She could hear the hoots and hollers of her friends encouraging her onward as she grasped his firm arse before lifting her hand back and giving him a resounding smack on one cheek.

"Woo, look at that sweet cherry red!" she heard Pansy yell as the blonde dancer's pale skin reddened where she had spanked him. His hand caught hers and he guided her to caress his backside and thighs just had he had earlier. He backed up and sat lightly on her lap with his legs spread. He led her hands over his front and down to cover and massage his erection as he thrust up into her hands.

"Now, do you promise that you can be a good girl for the rest of the evening if I untie you from that chair?" he whispered into her ear.

"Oh yes, Auror," she moaned. "Yes, we'll all be good." Her hips bucking up to hit his backside. "Very, very good."

With that, the young man slipped down Hermione's body to kneel in front of her. He took her head in his hands, leaned in and slowly licked her lips before placing his over her mouth. Suddenly the room grew much warmer, and Hermione melted into the kiss. When they both needed to breathe, he released her and said, "Happy birthday, beautiful lady. Stay out of trouble for me."

As Hermione recovered from the heady euphoria of his touches and kisses, the masked blonde picked up his Auror's robe and wand. He blew a kiss to all the ladies in the room, and then Disapparated.

oOoOoOo

When Hermione woke the next day, she had a hangover and only the blurriest of memory of the rest of the night. More champagne and bawdy jokes at her expense, she was sure. But the young blonde dancer and her reaction to him were crystal clear. And she was mortified. While he was definitely too young to actually be Draco, she suddenly thought, "O_h wait, didn't he have a son about Rose's age. Could it be that she had humiliated herself by licking Draco's son?" _She kept telling herself, _"Not possible. Not possible_. _A Malfoy would never have to work as an exotic dancer. Not possible._

"Oh dear, the narfles must be banging around quite noisily in your head this morning," Luna said as she handed Hermione a hangover potion. "This should take care of them," she said with a wink and a smile. "And then you'll want breakfast with the rest of us."

When Hermione joined her friends in the sitting area, she told them they could just wipe the grins off their faces and never mention last night again on pain of death.

Pansy pouted, "What? You didn't like our little surprise Glamour Boy?" Hermione sighed in relief as she realized that the dancer was from the same company Pansy had hired for Ginny's daughter's hen party. Golden Glamour's specialty was using elaborate glamour charms to customize the looks of their entertainment staff for the specific enjoyment of their clients. So, her friends had hired some nameless, and effectively faceless, dancer to fulfill a youthful fantasy for one night.

But still. Even as she smiled at the good natured ribbing of her friends and dug into the breakfast pastries and morning tea, she was mortified.


	2. Chapter 2 The Ministry New Year's Ball

Hermione was mortified.

Oh, last night had started off swimmingly. Ginny, Luna, and Pansy had convinced her to wear the most revealing nude lace dress which hugged her body perfectly and shimmered with every move. Hermione had to admit that her body had never—_never_—looked better. Her hair, make-up, and nails were done professionally. Pansy had threatened to put her in a body bind in the salon chair if Hermione didn't sit still for the full treatment. Ginny had quite agreed, while Luna told her once again _why _all four of them had decided that she needed to look knock-dead gorgeous for the Ministry's New Year Eve Ball.

One word: Ronald. Ron Bilius Weasley would be there with his new girlfriend. A young blonde thing barely older than their adult children. And while Hermione did not want an escort, she felt it imperative to make male heads turn and Ron's face turn green. For a moment, she wondered if she could hex him green literally and get away with it. Probably not at such a high-ranking, public function. Still . . .

oOoOoOo

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she rode the lift to the penthouse ballroom. Squaring her shoulders and sticking out her chest as Pansy had instructed, she stepped from the lift into the reception area where attendants stood ready to accept outer cloaks and direct guests to the main room.

Hermione stopped just inside the doors that opened to the swirling crowd of Ministry officials, wealthy wizards, and Very Important People—or at least people who _someone_ thought were important. Although counted as such because of her Order of Merlin and her position as the youngest witch or wizard to ever serve on the Wizengamot, Hermione had her doubts as the years went on. Taking a moment to scan the room, Hermione caught Ginny's eye and began to walk over to the redhead and her husband Oliver Wood, now head of the Department of Magical Games. Ginny gave her a thumbs-up then whispered in Oliver's ear.

When he turned to greet Hermione, his eye bugged out and he almost lost his drink. "Damn! Hermione? Wow!"

"How articulate," Hermione laughed. "I take that to mean that we succeeded in part. Mrs. Wood?"

"Oh yes, very much so." Ginny waved over a waiter with a tray of wine. "Here, you need a drink in your hand, Ms. Granger. And don't look now, but you've caught the interest of the Spanish Ambassador—I said _not _to look."

Hermione leaned closer to Ginny. "Is _he _here yet? I'm not sure —"

"Oh. My. Gods!" Pansy shrilled from halfway across the room. Next to her, Harry Potter was jiggling his finger in the ear nearest his wife and uncrossing his eyes.

"Well, now the other half of the room is looking this way," Ginny giggled.

"Great."

"I think everyone is checking you out except for the gay men here," Pansy turned her head to look over at Seamus and Dean. "Nope, they're putting their eyes back in their heads, too." Pansy was so proud of herself.

As the evening wore on, Hermione danced with a handful of attractive and powerful men, including the Spanish Ambassador. She was taking a breather by the bar when she heard the disapproving muttering sweep through the room. Turning toward the entrance, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy guiding his newest arm-candy into the party. This one was six feet of lean muscles and long legs swathed in gem-encrusted green silk—and she was at least half his age. Witches, single and married, whispered to each other in barely controlled outrage.

Draco placed his hand on the young woman's hip, looked around the room with a challenge in his smile, and waded into the shark-infested waters. Hermione turned back to the bar to order another drink when she overheard two older witches gossiping loudly. But really, who cared whom Malfoy dated?

"They get younger every event."

"Never the same one twice."

"At least they are from Pureblood families, but you would think their families would want their daughters married off properly."

"Oh, he's not interested in marriage. Nor are they only Purebloods."

"No! Hmph. Definitely not marriage then. And ultimately just shameful."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Like anyone would want to be married, much less intimate with him."

"Good evening, ma'am. How may I serve you?" The bartender was young and rakishly attractive. His eyes flickered from Hermione's eyes to her decollage and back before he smiled and winked.

"It's early in the evening, so she'll start with a gin and tonic before moving to something milder later. I'll have scotch, neat." Hermione turned sharply at the patrician drawl just over her shoulder and came face to face with Draco.

The waiter had hesitated, a question in his eye. Hermione pursed her lips and nodded sharply and he scurried to make her drink and get away from what was sure to be a caustic argument.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked.

Draco stepped closer to her. "I know a great many things, Ms. Granger. Even that you've finally unhitched your name from the Weasel."

Hermione tried taking a step back to make room between them but her butt bumped into the bar. "Yes, well, one would think there were enough Weasleys in the wizarding world."

Draco reached around her to place a hand on the bar, effectively trapping Hermione with his body. "But only one Granger." She could feel his breath on her cheek. "I hear that you have been awfully interested in my private movements outside the Ministry. Can't get enough of me, can you, Granger?" Draco leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You are so close; I bet you can taste victory."

Hermione stiffened. "I can smell blood on my own, Malfoy. And your hands are covered with it. I know your extracurricular financial activities are shady. I'll find the evidence without your game of hot and cold."

Draco breathed in her scent. "Oh Granger, you are definitely hotter."

"By the way, where is your extraordinarily beautiful—and young—escort, Malfoy?"

"I prefer 'Draco'." He scanned the dance floor. "Hmmm. Somewhere, I'm sure." Draco stepped back and put her gin and tonic in her hand.

"Perhaps I should find her," he smirked as his eyes traveled down her body. "Such a beautiful woman shouldn't be left alone by her escort. Who knows what trouble she could be having with unsavory types."

Draco lifted his drink in salute and stepped back. "Good evening, Hermione," he said, giving her a quick bow before walking off into the crowd.

Hermione huffed and wended her way toward the opposite side of the hall. Every few steps she felt someone brush against her flank. Men were getting entirely too handsy for her taste. Hermione almost ran to the toilets just to regroup her senses.

She stepped into the silence of the elegant sitting room lined with mirrors and comfortably overstuffed chairs. Breathing deeply, she surveyed herself in the mirror. _What had she been thinking listening to Pansy and Ginny? This was so not her. And damn that Draco Malfoy! She knew her corruption investigation was close to catching him redhanded; she could taste it. And why did he have to look so tasty at the same time? Couldn't evil at least look bad? _

"Urgh!" Hermione growled as her bladder made its demand for relief insistently. She stepped into one of the thankfully ample stalls to struggle with her skin-tight dress and foundation garments.

After relieving herself, the door to the toilets slammed open and what sounded like a herd of panting elephants stumbled into the handicapped stall for what sounded like—from the grunting and moaning—some extraordinarily hot sex. As quietly as possible, Hermione struggled to get her clothing back in place, quickly checked her make-up, and ran back out to rejoin the party. She really did _not_ want to know which couple here was still in the toilets. But the sounds of their coupling had done a number on her libido. It had been a long—_long—_time since she had had sex with someone other than her vibrator.

She scanned the room and noticed Draco and his date engaged in a rather traditional waltz near the center of the dance floor. He twirled his dance partner and locked eyes with Hermione across the crowd. Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione stepped through the dancing couples and tapped the 'child' in Draco's arm on the shoulder. "May I cut in?"

Draco whispered to his date, who glared at Hermione before stalking off to the bar. The two stared at each other for a moment before Draco open his arms and wordlessly dared Hermione to step closer.

Just then the music changed to a percussive rhumba beat that had Hermione swinging her hips and grinding her back end into Draco's groin, while he ran his hands along every curve and along her stomach before spinning her around for a bit of dirty dancing. Hermione could hear the startled gasps from the other party guests and the delighted squeal from Pansy—or was that Ginny?

Staring directly into her eyes, Draco said, "Do you want to dance, or do you want to dance?" Hermione smoothed her hands over his shoulders and brought her lips to his. She felt his grip on her tighten just before she felt the pull of Apparition. At that moment, she didn't even care if Ron had arrived at the party in time to see her leave with Malfoy or not.

oOoOoOo

With a pop, they arrived in a sleek modern foyer lined with antiques and modern sculpture. But Hermione did not really notice much except the grey of Draco's eyes, the strength of his hands, and the taste of his lips as they licked and nipped at each other.

She stepped back from him and wordlessly Vanished her dress and foundation garments, leaving her completely bare, except for her heels, to his gaze. Draco's nostrils flared and his eyes widen as he glided toward her like a panther on the hunt and closed the space between them. When their lips crashed together, Hermione Vanished Draco's dress robes and pulled his naked body against hers and felt his desire for her hard and hot against her thigh.

Not a room in Draco's townhouse escaped their lovemaking as they worked their way from the main hall to the leather and wood sitting room, up the stairs and into his library. They finally ended up in the bedroom where they fell onto the king-sized sled bed sweating, laughing, and exhausted.

oOoOoOo

When Hermione woke the next morning, she was naked and alone . . . and mortified. Fearing that Malfoy had left once he sobered up and realized in disgust that he had slept with the Mudblood Granger, Hermione bolted from the bed and scrambled to find her clothes—which she remembered were downstairs in the front hall. Shit!

She threw open what had to be a closet door. Yes! Luck was on her side. She grabbed one of Draco's shirts, pulled it on, and began to button it. It hung to just above her knee and covered everything. Just as she reached the door to the hallway, another door opened and Draco walked into the room from the toilet.

"You weren't leaving so soon, were you, Granger?" Draco drawled.

Hermione froze and turned to see him wearing a dressing robe and a smirk. His bed tousled hair stuck up at weird angles, much the way Harry's did on a regular basis.

"Uh . . . I . . . well . . .no?"

"Good," said Draco as he untied his robe and approached her, "because we are not through yet."

"Oh."

Draco pulled Hermione onto the bed and crawled up her body to straddle her hips. He took a nipple in his teeth and exerted a tiny amount of pressure.

"Oh!" Hermione moaned.

"And we won't be for quite a while," Draco purred. "I hope you don't have any other plans for the day."

All she could do was incoherently grunt "nuh, uh" as he worked his way down her body.

She really could not care less how she was going to live this one down.


End file.
